


Unopened Letter

by Prozzy



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prozzy/pseuds/Prozzy
Summary: Slight AU verse where instead of taking out a single ad to respond to Hannibal post SOTL Clarice put out several hoping to gain contact with Hannibal. Having made contact, the two exchange letters for an extended period of time before the fic.





	Unopened Letter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really rusty with writing smut, so if any mistakes please forgive me. Also not edited, so if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes please also forgive those.

The kitchen is almost silent in the late evening. There's the soft tick of the clock, as it counts the seconds that she stands there. Every so often the fridge hums, the fan kicking on in a desperate attempt to keep the food cold. The sound of wheels on concrete drifts in through the open window. Sadly there's no breeze, as appreciated as it would be.

Raising her drink to her lips, she takes a slow sip. She'd kept the whiskey in the fridge, knowing that she'd want something cold and strong to knock her on her ass when she got home. It'd been a long week at the office, too long in her mind. But she's starting to wonder if she's done it to herself. 

She sighs and finishes the last mouthful in her glass. Pouring herself another glass, she screws the cap back in place before placing the whiskey back on the fridge door and slams the door shut. Her glass accompanies her into the living room, a spot that she desperately needs to clean, but will likely only get to tomorrow. 

Tonight is her time, and she plans on taking full of advantage of it. 

The fact that it's her birthday has crossed her mind only once, and that was earlier in the morning. After she'd graduated birthdays had seemed to become less and less important. Mapp still tried to do dinner and give her a present, but she never made it easy for the woman. In Clarice's mind the best present would be simply forgetting the whole thing. But maybe tonight she could use it as an excuse to do nothing for once.

She hesitates next to the couch for a moment, before instead deciding to head towards her study. Her computer might not be the greatest distraction, but maybe she can find something in one of her books. Opening the door to her study, she sighs happily and flicks on the light. 

Leaving the slippers she'd been wearing at the door, she walks across the room to set her drink on the coaster on her desk. Next her gaze turns to each window, checking to see if either has been disturbed recently. But no, each small indicator of an intruder remains in its proper place. Nodding once, she turns to her computer and turns it on.

Content to let it take it's time, she wanders over to the file she'd left open on the side of her desk. Some of the pictures are new and she hasn't had the chance to look over them yet. She tries for a few moments to shuffle through some of the pictures, but nothing sticks and she can't seem to focus her gaze. Biting back a sigh, she sets the pictures down and reaches for her drink.

Was that a creak?

She goes still. Her mouth opens to silence her breathing, and she slowly starts to push herself off of her desk. It had been faint, but it had sounded like it was a few feet down the hallway, perhaps near the top of the stairs. There's a gun in the top right drawer of her desk, beneath the black arm chair just to her left, and one hidden behind the top row of books to the right of the door. Her best bet is the pistol under the armchair and she knows it. 

Inching her way forward, she crouches next to the armchair, and blindly gropes for the butt of the pistol with her fingers. Her gaze, she keeps firmly trained on the doorway, hoping to see some form of movement. A shadow? No, only her imagination. At least, the shadow hasn't moved again. Fingers curling around her pistol, she exhales slowly before slowly lifting it in the direction she thought she saw movement.

The seconds stretch, and her computer behind her beeps quietly as it completes its boot up. A good thing it'd been expected, and she's more disciplined than most. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she considers the consequences of yelling out. She's likely a better shot than anyone who's decided to come into her house, and-

And what?

_Jesus Christ, Starling, what the hell are you about to do?_

"Whoever the hell is in the hallway, come into the doorway, hands above your head. Do it in the next three seconds, and you will not be shot at."

A soft chuckle comes from the hallway. A shiver runs down her spine, and for a moment the gun shakes in her hand. She recognizes that sound all too well. It's not one she thought she would ever hear in person again. Swallowing heavily, she watches as the man steps into the warm light pouring out of her study into the hallway. His eyes find hers immediately, and she forgets to breath for a moment. Lips parting in a smile, he steps into her study, careful to keep the armchairs between them. 

"What gave me away, the creak at the top of the stair?"

Clarice lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug, fingers readjusting along the grip of her gun as she tries to decide what she wants to do with him. She knows what she should be doing, what she's supposed to be doing, but if she's lucky Hannibal's only two steps ahead of her and there's no use trying. Slowly, inch by inch, she lowers her gun until it's pointing at the floor.

That makes the man's smile widen.

Hurriedly, the agent pushes herself to her feet and puts her desk between them. His sudden appearance has thrown her off. Never had she expected to have him show up at her house. Her gun remains in her left hand as she reaches for her drink again. This one goes down faster than the first did. Suddenly she regrets leaving the rest of the bottle in the fridge. 

Looking back at him, she finally asks, "Why are you in my house, Doctor Lecter?"

The man's gaze has never wandered from her face, which unnerves her slightly. Only Hannibal has ever paid such close attention. She wishes she could see herself now through his eyes, she how much she's changed in the years since they've last spoken like this. 

"I was in the area, and thought I'd stop by, check on an old friend." His voice is like honey, soft and sweet when he wants it to be. But she remembers how mocking and harsh it can turn without much of a thought from Hannibal.

Setting her jaw, she meets his gaze squarely and has to fight back the mild urge to roll her eyes. "That's an awfully big risk to take, Doctor Lecter." He's considered every possibility, every outcome from this meeting, and they both know it. If she were to turn against him, go against her own rules of hospitality, she would never forgive herself. But letting him walk away would kill her too.

"I'm aware of the risk I make, Clarice." His smile softens as he steps further into the room. His hand falls to the back of the armchair closest to him. His fingers running over the fabric before his palm settles on the plush material. He inclines his head in the direction of the cushion, silently asking her if he can sit. 

It takes her a second to respond, but she makes a small gesture with her hand. She watches as he moves to take a seat, his movements full of grace and purpose. When he is finally seated with his hands in his lap, she moves to place her pistol on the shelf. Now that she's pulled it from its hiding spot she's going to have to hide it again.

"Would you like a drink, Doctor? I have no wine, but I do have a half-decent whiskey downstairs that you are welcome to share."

She watches his lips twitch slightly in what she thinks is amusement, before he shakes his head. "No, thank you, Clarice. I am fine for the moment, but I appreciate the offer." 

Having nothing to do with herself but sit, she sits.

From across her desk they watch each other. Four years have passed since Memphis, and much has changed since then. Changes both of them are more than aware of but have yet to see them in person. Clarice finds that the only thing she finds different about the doctor is his facial features and hair colour. His eyes he has left their usual maroon, though he has told her that he wears contacts to help change the colour. 

Her gaze flicks away from his to the letter still sitting on the corner of her desk. She has not opened it, though it appeared in the mailbox several weeks ago. It is not the first letter she's received over the years, nor is it likely to be the last, but it is the first one she has not responded instantly to. Which explains the man sitting across from her, though she hadn't expected such a thing from him.

Looking back at Hannibal, she can't help but notice that his fingertips are digging into the tops of his thighs. That has her frowning slightly to herself. Never has she seen such a thing from the doctor, granted their time together in person had been brief. Still, he has never struck her as the type to show such emotion outwardly.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" She questions him gently, hoping that he will be honest with her and tell her what's on his mind like he does in his letters. Hannibal nods a few times, but doesn't answer her verbally which does nothing but frustrate her.

So instead she turns to her computer and begins typing in her password. If he wants to sit there in silence, she'll let him. She's had too long of a week to play games with him, it will only lead to more frustration. It takes him very little time to realize she's in no mood for games, and before she has time to so much as even open a file he's clearing his throat.

"You didn't open your letter," he states when she's looking back at him. And in that sentence she can hear more confusion and hurt than she ever expected to hear from him.

Sighing a little, her shoulders slump and she leans back in her chair. She hadn't meant to keep putting it off. It was just easier that way some days recently. Much as she didn't want it to be. Lifting a hand to her face, she rubs her chin slightly and takes a deep breath in.

"I've been slightly too afraid to open it to be honest."

In her last letter, she had made a slight hint towards something she had previously steered away from. Since sending it she had regretted writing it, and had wanted to take it all back. After all, what she had dreamed of the night before writing the letter was nothing more than a fantasy. It was impossible, and beyond ridiculous. But it's one she's starting to have almost every night. And here he is sitting across her desk. 

Smiling at her in a way that has her wondering what she's going to do when he walks away and shatters that one dream. 

"Open your letter, Clarice."

Slowly, she reaches for the plain white envelope. It had felt thick the day she had lifted it out of the mailbox, but now it seems twice as big. Her fingers pause on the flap keeping it sealed, and she has to remind herself to breath again before she opens it.

Pulling the folded paper from the envelope, she unfolds it and looks down. 

Dearest Clarice,

Outside of my window the river flows by lazily, the waves gently lapping away at the stone. The breeze rattles the leaves on the trees, and carries the scent of fresh coffee and a variety of street food. The sun is peeking out from behind the clouds right now, but earlier it was raining. The sound of the rain on the window and roof fills your ears and muffles the sound of everything else. If you lay by the fire with a book and a glass of wine, it's a wonderful way to spend the evening.

But from your last letter perhaps you want something besides a book and a glass of wine?

What is it that you dreamed, Clarice? You left me with scant few details, and I wish for nothing more than to experience your dream with you. I will even be fair and tell you one of my own in exchange, perhaps you'll find a small pleasure in it the way that I do. 

It more often than not begins with you sitting in the chair by the fire, your hair unbound and brushed until it shines in the light from the candles and fire. At one point you had on a dress, but it lays discarded on the floor out of reach. Instead you have a necklace that I once purchased for you in France, and a smirk that sends me to my knees. 

Your fingers run through my hair, and your smirk turns positively feral as you lean in to steal a kiss from me. The kiss is long and anything but gentle. Your tongue teases mine, trying to get it to follow yours into your mouth so it can nip and suck. It is all too easy to lose myself in the idea of touching and kissing you, Clarice. I know for I've lost days to it. 

There are some nights that I roll over and want nothing more than to reach across the empty space wishing it held you. I wonder what it would be like to wake up in the middle of the night and see your sleeping face shining in the moonlight. I like to think that you would sleep curled into my side, your head resting against my chest. Or perhaps, pressed against my chest with your head beneath my chin, our hearts beating next to one another.

Oh Clarice, what you've hinted at is something I've thought on. It could be an easy life, I could make you happy. The conversations we could have, the pieces of art and history I could show you here in Europe, or even South America should you wish it. The things I wish to teach you and share with you are endless. 

Please share your dream with me, Clarice. I wish to know just how many of our stars are truly the same.

Yours,

Hannibal

Lowering the paper slowly to her desk, the agent takes her time lifting her gaze to Hannibal's. She knows her cheeks are flushed, the heat is even beginning to spread to her neck and ears. Heart hammering in her chest, she meets the doctor's gaze and inhales shakily. 

To answer his letter now, or question him further about his decision to come?

Her eyes close for a moment as she struggles with herself. It doesn't take her long to come to a decision. Pushing aside what seems to be the ever present voice of Crawford in her head, she offers the doctor a small smile. There’s no reason it can’t be both.

"I have to say, Hannibal, you seem to have taken some of the words right out of my mouth as usual." Leaning back in her chair, she crosses her legs and considers him for a moment. "However, the fire is a nice touch I wouldn't have thought of. But it does sound rather wonderful."

There's a flash of relief in the doctor's eyes that takes her by surprise, and she can't stop the, "Hannibal?"

"It's fine, Clarice." His voice holds a new note of warmth to it, that has her blinking at him slowly. "I've recently been a bit foolish is all."

She raises an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to proceed with an explanation. He shakes his head slightly, at himself she assumes because he gives her the wanted explanation. "I believed you had opened the letter, read it, and grew disgusted with me. I wished to come apologize to you in person for having overstepped myself."

"That seems a far way to travel to only apologize, Hannibal," Clarice tells him with a slight head shake. "Why not just simply send another letter and apologize?"

"And if you never opened it?" The doctor questions her, leaning back in his seat and lacing his fingers together. "Then I will have done you wrong, and you would never know that I felt sorry for it."

"I apologize, Hannibal, for not opening the letter sooner and making you feel like you needed to put yourself in danger." Running her fingers along the edge of her desk, Clarice tries not to let herself dwell on what would happen if anyone found him here. 

Clearing her throat, she shifts in her chair slightly. It's only fair she explain why she didn't open the letter, after all, it was the whole reason he was sitting across from her. Not that the agent could entirely complain about that. It reassures her greatly to see him. The good doctor looks better than she had expected him to. 

"I didn't open your letter because I was afraid of the same thing, or maybe it was something different?" Clarice's head cocks to the side as she thinks about it for a moment. "No, wait. I think it was more I was afraid you would brush it aside and pretend that I hadn't said a thing. I think refusal would have hurt worse than disgust, but only because disgust never crossed my mind."

The doctor is watching her closely, his eyes drinking in everything. He's leaning towards her slightly, his head tilted just enough to better catch her words. The intensity of his stare has her faltering slightly, and the heat in her cheeks renews itself. God, how many times had she imagined that stare, watching her as she ran every morning, as she picked out her groceries, as she went about her life?

Thankfully he doesn't mock her for the blush, or losing her trail of thought. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet and walks slowly around the desk towards her. His fingers trail along the side of the desk, before reaching for her. They curl around her cheek, and she turns her head into his touch. She presses a kiss to his palm before she breaths in slowly, pleased to find that he smells almost as she imagined. 

Pushing herself to her feet, Clarice gives him a wide smile before pressing her lips hard to his. Later they will have to talk, he can't stay here forever, and if this continues to happens strict rules will need to be put in place. But for the moment they can enjoy themselves.

Hannibal's lips press hungrily against hers, while his hand slides from her cheek to her hair. His fingers run through, twirling strands around themselves. Clarice feels the slight sigh through his nose ghost across her cheek, and it makes her chuckle. Reaching for him, she curls her fingers into his shirt and pulls herself closer. She turns her head just enough that she can nip at his top lip. 

The low groan that leaves him has her toes curling in pleasure. She loves the sound, and can’t wait to hear more of it. The doctor is the one who breaks the kiss. He runs a thumb along her cheek, his tongue wetting his lips. “Somewhere more comfortable?”

“Bedroom.”

His hand falls from her hair as she reaches for his other hand. Taking his hand, she gives it a gentle squeeze before leading the way out of her study. His thumb runs along the back of her hand as they walk, and she smiles to herself. Stopping when they get to her bed, she turns to look at him and say something only to be interrupted by a kiss.

Hannibal lets go of her hand to wrap his arms around her. Hands free, she happily reaches up to bury her fingers in his hair. He lifts her up and places her in the middle of her bed. Barely a moment later and he’s on top of her, hands travelling along her sides. Lips working hard against his, she teases his tongue with hers, enjoying the way his follows hers into her mouth. The kiss isn't gentle, and more than a small part of her enjoys it.

His hands move from her sides, his long fingers wrap around her wrist and squeeze gently. Taking the hint, she lets her fingers fall from his hair. He thanks her by pinning her wrists to the mattress above her head. Pinned to the mattress beneath her and her mouth being not so gently kissed, Clarice can only wiggle and squirm beneath him, silently asking for more. And he gives her more, though it comes slow. Far too slow.

One hand ghosts up her stomach, feeling the soft skin and caressing it with a gentleness that he doesn't show in his kisses. Hannibal's hand brushes against the swell of one of her breasts, and she whimpers softly into his mouth. His response is to moan back and cup her breast, squeezing it over the padding of her bra.

Exhaling through her nose, she bites down on his tongue and gives it a hard suck. A loud groan leaves the doctors and he pulls his tongue from her mouth to bite down on her bottom lip. Gasping loudly, her back arches, pushing herself against him. Her hands twitch in the hold of his one hand, wanting to run themselves along him, but his hold remains firm.

He pulls away from her mouth and nudges her head to the side, his lips pressing against the the bottom of her jaw. Chest working for breath, she opens her eyes and stares at the wall as his tongue and teeth work against her skin. His tongue sliding against her skin, she moans and wiggles again. Her wiggling brushes her hips against his and she has to fight back a whine as she feels his arousal against her.

He groans into her neck and she feels his hand let go of her wrists. She’s barely registered it before she can feel him pushing her shirt up her stomach and chest. Lifting herself up off the bed slightly, she lets him pull her shirt over her head. She doesn't see where he tosses it, and she doesn't care, she’s too busy enjoying the feeling of his mouth against her chest. Too busy enjoying his tongue and teeth moving over the skin he had just exposed.

Gasping and panting, she wraps her arms around him and squeezes her eyes shut as he lifts her again from the mattress. Fingers slide up her back as he searches for the back of her bra and she lets out a soft sigh. He doesn't fumble with her clasps as she thought he would, and before she has time to draw breath her bra is sliding away. Letting her fall back to the bed, Hannibal pulls it off of her and tosses it in the same direction he had thrown her shirt.

She isn't expecting the look he gives her, eyes taking her in and gleaming with appreciation. It makes her face flush ever so slightly, and she turns her head away. One hand sliding up her skin, he cups her face and turns her head so that she’s looking at him. This time his kiss is gentle, his tongue running along hers with a sweetness she hadn't expected.

Hannibal tastes like metal beneath her tongue, warm and unexpected. Her mind is overwhelmed with the task of putting that taste away to remember later when his fingers brush over her nipples. Moaning loudly, she squirms and tries to get him to touch her more. And he willingly complies, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples in slow circles, teasing them.

Then his lips are around one, his tongue flicking over her nipple teasingly. Gasping, she tightens her grip on his hair and pulls him closer. He groans against her skin, and bites down on her pulling another gasp from her. Head falling back, she slides one hand up his side to brace herself against his shoulder while the other returns to his hair.

She can feel his fingers working at the button to her jeans, and she silently wills him to hurry, too distracted to help him. When his hand finally slips into her underwear, and his fingers run over her folds she’s already wet. His moan is loud as he feels her, and he drags his tongue along her skin between her breasts and moves to take her other nipple in his mouth to suck at it.

Whimpering beneath him, she rolls her hips against his hand. She hears Hannibal inhale raggedly as his fingers slip against her searching for her clit. He knows he'd found when she opens her mouth and moans his name loudly. He rubs the tiny bundle of nerves in time to the bites and sucks to her nipple and it leaves her breathless.

Pulling away from her chest, he begins nipping and kissing his way down her stomach. Clarice’s hand falls from his shoulder to the bed, where she digs her fingers into the sheets. His tongue plays with her navel and she groans loudly, not having expected to find pleasure in the action. His free hand pushes at her jeans, shoving them down her thighs and caressing the skin he’s revealed. Pressing another kiss to her stomach, she think she hears him mutter something about how soft she is.

His finger teases her in slow circles, never quite touching her after the first few initial strokes and she whines at him. She feels his lips travel along the top of her thigh as he pulls her jeans and underwear over one foot and then the other. Gently he pushes her legs open and kisses the inside of her thigh. Clarice tenses, waiting for what comes next. She lets out a surprised squeak as he bites down on her and sucks a bruise into her skin.

And then his tongue is running along her folds, the tip of his tongue gently flicking her clit and teasing her. Biting her bottom lip, she opens her eyes and looked down. “Hannibal,” she moans his name and gave his hair a tug. “Hannibal, please, don't tease me.”

His eyes meet hers and she sees them crinkle at the corners. Even without seeing his mouth she can tell he’s smirking at her. His tongue circles her clit, and she drops her head back to the bed with a whine. She tries to roll his hips against his mouth, but his hands are there at her hips holding them down.

Wiggling beneath him, she whines louder and tugs at his hair. Clarice feels his breath against her skin as he sighs heavily through his nose and finally relents. A hard lick of her clit has her back arching, and his name falling rapidly from her lips. His hand slides beneath her back and keeps her suspended there. The agent doesn’t have the chance to think about whether or not she likes that because then Hannibal’s tongue is on her clit again.

Head falling back, she runs her nails gently along his scalp as she moans happily for him. He traces a gentle circle, and she has to swallow a whimper. Her fingers tighten in the blankets, trying to give herself something to hold onto that isn’t his hair. She gasps loudly as the doctor’s lips circle her clit and give it a gentle suck. Her hips snap up, the whimper she’d held back escaping.

Clarice feels his chuckle against her, and it sends a shiver along her spine. Eyes squeezing shut, she tightens her fingers in his hair as his tongue is replaced by his thumb. It rubs itself against her clit, in tight slow circles. His tongue runs lower, lapping at the juices running along her folds. It has her squirming against the mattress, her one leg rising so she can wrap it around him and pull him closer.

Panting, she rolls her hips in time to his circles. As the point of his tongue runs along her entrance she feels her legs shake against him. When his tongue slides into her, she lets out a soft, “Oh fuck.”

_Breath, girl,_ she reminds herself for a moment. Chest shaking with the effort of it, she squeezes her shut. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as his thumb slowly starts to move faster against her clit. His tongue rubs against her walls, searching for that spot he knows is there. 

Clarice whimpers softly as he gets closer. Her hips try to shift to help him, but his arm against her keeps her from doing so. Thankfully, the doctor seems to understand what she wants, his tongue moving in the direction she wanted. Moaning loudly, she runs her nails along the back of his head. As his tongue continues to brush over her g-spot her toes curl and the familiar wave of heat starts to build in her spine.

“Hannibal,” she whimpers his name, legs starting to tense around him. The man lets out a low growl just as the pressure against her clit increases. It undoes her. Hips snapping up, she tightens her grip on his hair. Heat rushes through her, and thankfully instead of the scream she’d half been expecting she moans loudly. 

His one hand slips away from her folds to her thigh. The doctor caresses and covers her in gentle kisses as he lowers her back to the mattress. Slowly he climbs up the mattress towards her, leaving kisses along her pale skin as he goes. The agent’s hand remains in his hair, though now that her orgasm is over it’s loosened its grip. Once over her, he gives her a wide smile, which she returns with a lazy one of her own.

“That was wonderful,” she purrs at him, fingers smoothing down some of the hair she had mussed. Reaching up, she presses a kiss to his jaw. The man’s head turns towards her, and Hannibal steals a real kiss from her, much to her delight. Her fingers slowly start to trail their way down his neck before running along the top of his back, or as much of it as she can reach with his shirt still on. 

Feeling the sigh rather than hearing it, Clarice pulls away from the kiss to peer up at him. “Are you okay?” She asks him softly. Her fingers finding a knot at the top of his shoulder blade, and slowly she starts to knead it.

“I’m fine,” he assures her, eyes sliding closed as her fingers work on his shoulder. “Simply wondering how much further you are willing to go tonight.”

Head tilting to the side, she watches his face for a moment. “I’m on a pill, I usually prefer to have condoms as well, but I wasn’t expecting company tonight.” Her lips twist in a faint smirk. Sliding her hand from his back, to cup his face, she runs her thumb over his cheek. His eyes open and his tongue wets his lips.

“Clarice-”

She interrupts him knowing how rude he considers it, and hopes he will forgive her for it after hearing what she tells him. “Get undressed, Hannibal.”

The man goes still for a moment, and Clarice fears that she may have been wrong. But then he’s moving, hands falling away from her to reach for his shirt. Watching for a moment, she enjoys the methodical exposure of skin. Though, he’s moving far too slowly for her liking, she knows better than to push him so soon after interrupting him.

So instead she watches and admires as he kicks his pants off the edge of the bed. They land on the floor with the soft sound of metal hitting metal thanks to his belt. And that’s the last thought she gives them. 

Eyes running over Hannibal’s body, she reaches out for him. Now that he’s naked she’s not willing to let herself sit back. She wants to touch and feel, see just how much her dream got right. The moment her fingers connect with his chest and feel the silky smoothness of his skin, she knows nothing the dreams will be outstripped by reality. Her hands slide lower, nails leaving faint red trails along his skin. 

His head dips towards hers, his teeth searching for her lip. Clarice gasps quietly as she tastes a few small drops of blood along her lip from the bite. The man’s tongue runs along the bite mark, tasting and trying to soothe. Arching into him, she smiles against him as her fingers find their target. 

Her smile twists into a smirk as the man’s breath leaves him. Fingers curling under his head, she gives his shaft a gentle squeeze. He’s velvet soft and warm beneath her fingers. And sticky thanks to the precum starting to leak off of his head. She moans softly to herself, wondering if she could convince him to roll over so she can get her own tasting in.

Before her mouth can open to even ask, his fingers are around her right wrist. Hannibal squeezes gently, asking her to let go. She whines at him, not wanting to. He pulls away, puts just enough space between their mouths to whisper, “Please, Clarice.”

Exhaling roughly, she takes her time letting go. Head tilting back, she meets his gaze with pursed lips. He lets go of her wrist to run his hands along her thighs. Settling himself between her legs, he presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “There will be time for that later, Little Bird.” Clarice swallows her further displeasure, and lets the promise of next time soothe the mild disappointment.

His tip runs along her folds, guided by his own fingers. Eyes closing, she tries to keep her hips still while he slides into her. Groaning quietly, she buries her face into his shoulder. Hannibal’s hands fall to her hips, fingers digging into her skin. Her own fingers dig into the backs of his shoulders. He pauses when he’s as deep as he dare go. Her hips roll up against his hands, trying to encourage him deeper.

The man’s grip on her hips shifts just before he bites down on her shoulder. Hissing softly through her teeth, Clarice goes to bite back only to realize his hips are slowly moving against hers. Resting her forehead against the side of his head, the agent moans softly in his ear. Their movements remain slow and steady for several long minutes, their bodies drinking in the feeling of the other. 

And then her hips roll against his a little harder than she’d originally meant. The doctor growls softly, but because his lips are next to her ear the sound fills her head. Shivering, she rolls her hips again, this time a little more demanding. When she hears the man’s sharp intake of breath, she knows she’s won. What she’s not expecting is the sudden fierceness behind his thrusts.

It fills her with a delicious warmth she hadn’t realized she wanted. Legs wrapping around Hannibal’s waist, she does her best to keep her hips moving to the new rhythm. A not so quiet moan starts to leave her as his head brushes over that spot inside her again. She manages to strangle it halfway through, and instead whimpers into his ear.

“Clarice,” her name is barely a whisper on his lips as thrusts into her.

His thumb finds her clit, and a sharp gasps leaves her. Nails digging into the backs of the doctor’s shoulders, she slowly drags them downwards. He rubs her clit in time to his thrusts, making sure that for every brush against her g-spot there’s a corresponding brush to her clit. The two have the familiar wave of heat building quickly, and she groans quietly.

The doctor moans back, a deep sound that echoes through her. Turning her head, she presses a hard kiss to his lips. Teeth accidentally meet teeth shocking them both into momentary stillness. When Hannibal’s hips move against hers again, she ends up whimpering into his mouth. His tongue presses against hers, trying to swallow the sound as she makes it.

Her orgasm hits her faster than she wants it to. The rising heat between her legs has her back arching off the bed, trying to press her closer to him. The shaking of her legs is accompanied by half-moans, half-whimpers. Not feeling him reach his own climax, Clarice continues to roll her hips for the man above her. Teeth nipping at his tongue, she squeezes her walls around him. 

The sound Hannibal makes sounds almost inhuman to her, half-way between a growl and a moan. It’s followed shortly by the feeling of being filled even more than she already is. 

A large part of her doesn’t want the man to move. Now that they’ve sated themselves, her bed is altogether too inviting to her tired body. But the doctor slowly slides himself free, a large amount of his seed spilling out of her as he pulls away. Clarice shivers, missing the feeling of him inside her already.

“Stay here,” his breath dances across her flushed skin. 

The agent has no time to protest before he’s gone. Hoping he’ll be back soon, she rolls onto her side and reaches for one of her pillows. Her mind drifts to past birthdays, and she allows herself a small smile. She’s been on the receiving end of birthday sex before, but that time the person had known it was her birthday and tried to impress only to fail. This time she’d had it with someone who only wanted to make sure she was enjoying herself. 

_It's a good thing I managed to brush Mapp aside tonight. This was a better way of spending today._ Head turning, she glances towards the door as she hears footfalls on the wooden flooring. He comes into the room, holding a damp towel and a glass of water for her. Her smile can only grow for him. 

Hannibal walks over, sitting next to her on the mattress. Placing the glass of water down, he offers the towel to her for a moment. “Or if you wish, I could.”

She reaches for the glass, legs spreading a little before she hesitates. “If you do are you going to clean or tease?”

“Clean,” he promises her, voice and gaze steady.

Slowly, her legs open a little wider. It takes a second longer for her gaze to flick away. She takes her first sip of water after his first gentle stroke. Pleased to find he’s been truthful, not that she’d entirely expected otherwise, she relaxes further into the mattress. 

When she’s finished drinking, she sets the glass down and turns back to the doctor. Clarice has no idea how to ask any of the dozens of questions going through her mind right now, so instead she settles simply for asking, “Right side or left side?”

“Whichever side you are less comfortable with.” He pulls the cloth from her legs, finished with cleaning her off. Looking up at her, he smiles a little, his tiny white teeth poking through. When he stands, she doesn’t have to ask where he’s going, only knows that he’ll be back.

Rolling onto her side, she wiggles her way to the center of the bed. The answer he gave her wasn’t really an answer, and because of it she’s going to make him choose for himself. There’s enough room on either side of her, he should have no issue finding a spot. 

Face buried in her favourite pillow, Clarice waits as patiently as she can for him to come back. She hears the padding of feet again, knowing full well he’s letting her hear it so as not to startle her. Then the mattress dips beneath his weight on the left, the side closest to the door, and the side facing her. Opening her eyes, she watches him crawl across the bed towards her.

It takes them a few moments of shifting and feeling things out before they manage to settle comfortably together. Clarice is pressed into his side, arm draped across him, while her head rests just above his heart. His fingers trail through her hair, petting her, hoping to soothe her to sleep. 

She’ll sleep eventually, first she has something to say. 

Head tilting back, she opens her eyes just enough that she can watch his face. “I’m sorry again, that you felt like you needed to come and visit, but I’m glad you did.”

“I am too, my little bird.” Hannibal smiles back at her and brushes a piece of hair from her face. “We’ll speak more in the morning about what’s happened, for now, sleep.”

Reaching up, Clarice presses a gentle good night kiss to his lips and allows herself a small smile before settling back against his chest. “Good night, Hannibal.”

“Good night, Clarice.”


End file.
